


Quarantine

by Ancalime1



Series: Unnamed Astronaut AU [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Angst, Astronaut AU, Astronauts, Gen, So much angst, Space AU, Suicide Attempt, Whump, angst in space yay, hulk is still a bitch-ass parasite, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 18:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16918038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ancalime1/pseuds/Ancalime1
Summary: “This is Dr. Robert Bruce Banner of Roskilde 1. Shuttle coordinates unknown. Log date unknown. If you’re listening, Commander… this is it. This is my note.”





	Quarantine

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at the suggestion of @mutantbanner on tumblr, who put the idea into my head not one hot second after the Avengers 4 trailer was released. Bruce has a plan to destroy the parasite, but the end result could have grim implications.

He’s drifting. Drifting in black. **  
**

The decision comes to him in an eerie calm, like a ghost whispering into his ear.  _Mom?_   He wonders. His skin prickles at thought. He doesn’t dwell on it, doesn’t dare. He knows what he needs to do.

He pulls himself back into the ship, into the airlock chamber. The hatch closes behind him, and once the pressure stabilizes within the room, he twists his helmet off and inhales. Calm. He needs to be calm in order to do this. If he isn’t calm, then he has no chance of this working. He steels himself and pushes his way past the second seal and back into the ship.

He doesn’t bother taking his suit off. He’ll need it again soon enough. It’s clunky and awkward in the artificial gravity, but that’s only a temporary problem. The shuttles attached to the station are small and compact, and not designed to mimic Earth’s gravitational force. He’d feel as weightless inside it as if he were actually in space.

He clambers into the nearest shuttle, and sets his helmet in his lap. Common sense almost seizes him just then—God, what was he doing? Was he going crazy, trying to abandon the crew? What in the  _hell_ was he thinking?

 _Quiet_ , insists a voice in his head—not the parasite’s, but his own conscience, cutting through to him more clearly than any transmission.  _This is for the crew’s sake. You’re doing this for them._ He lets his head fall back against the seat, and he closes his eyes and draws in a few shaky breaths. He’s got to try and compose himself, for the good of the crew. For them. He wills his eyes open, exhales, and powers up the shuttle.

A tear rolls down his cheek, and he detaches.

~

He’s been in motion for about an hour now. The discarded suit floats next to him—he won’t be needing it just yet, not for a day or so at least. He shudders at the thought. “Day” is a relative term—he has no way of telling how long his life support will last until the shuttle’s alarms go off, and by then he’ll only have minutes left. Then he’ll don the suit again, and wait for the oxygen reservoir to drain. Hopefully by then he’ll be off the grid, far enough away for any of the crew members  _or_  Asgardians to find his body. And if they do… well, that’s what the suit is for. He has a contingency plan in place.

He sighs and reaches for the blanket that’s stowed away beneath his seat. He draws his legs in close and wraps himself up in it, burrowing into its warmth. In front of him, a dazzling starscape stretches out beyond the viewport. It’s enchanting, and he briefly forgets his deadly situation—or at least, he’s not afraid of it anymore. Even the parasite has become oddly quiet, and he briefly wonders if it’s even aware of his plan, if it knows that his endgame is to smother the life out of them both. Perhaps it will try to fight back in their final moments, try to override his conscience in one last desperate effort to survive. But he’s ready. He’s prepared to fight back too. And this time, he’s sure he’ll win.

His eyes wander across the viewport, across the ribbons of stardust that weave through the black. A wave of numbness washes over him, and he finds himself sinking into a deep sleep.

~

He positions himself in front of the camera, the blanket from before still draped around his shoulders. He doesn’t know how much longer he’s got until the life support alarms start blaring, a factor that would be highly distracting to say in the least. Best get this done now, before he runs out of time.

He hits the red recording button and begins.

“This is Dr. Robert Bruce Banner of Roskilde 1. Shuttle coordinates unknown. Log date unknown. If you’re listening, Commander, don’t get too mad. I did that on purpose.” He lets out a shaky laugh, and stares at his palms. God, the commander. He wonders what she must be thinking right now. He wonders if she even knew he’d left.

He clears his throat and continues. “Um. There’s probably no way anyone’s ever gonna find this message. I’m half hoping that that’s the case. But on the off-chance that it’s not, well… this is it. This is my note.”

He pauses to catch his breath. He’s shaking—whatever calm had possessed him before had now vanished, probably along with his waning oxygen supply. He feels the parasite rumbling at the edge of his mind, like a distant storm brewing. He squeezes his eyes shut and wills the thought away before he starts again.

“A few weeks ago I began conducting research on the specimen I collected from the dwarf planet HLK-19999A. Thing is, there was a breach in my hazmat suit, and… well, I got contaminated. Thanks a lot, NASA.” Another bitter laugh. “I’m kidding. I should’ve checked the damn thing before I started my observations. In my defense though, I was excited.

“I know. Not an excuse. I’m just making jokes to cope with the fact that I’m trying to kill myself, so I’m sure you’ll understand.” He pauses. “It’s uh… well, it’s bad. The organism is a kind of parasite that can be absorbed through the skin. And the symptoms… well, you’ve seen me. I look like the ass-end of hell. Severe headaches, cold sweats, nausea and vomiting, all in an effort to get the damn thing out of my system. Hasn’t worked, though. In fact, it’s…” he pauses, his voice wavering. He doesn’t finish his thought, doesn’t dare go into the fact that this parasite is evolving inside of him, brooding on the edge of his thought, prowling between neurons and glial cells and threatening to take control.

He hastily rejects the thought, and wills himself to continue.

“Um. Preliminary tests showed genetic traces of it in my blood and saliva, so it’ll most definitely infect you too if you come into any sort of contact with my… fluids,” he says, biting his lip. “But, uh, not to worry. I’ve quarantined myself in an EVA suit—er, I mean, I will, once I’ve finished recording this message. So when it comes time for me to meet my ghastly end, you won’t have to worry about getting infected or anything.

“Now, I know we humans tend to get pretty sentimental about the dead, and right now you’re probably thinking about removing my ugly corpse from the suit to give me a proper burial or something. Word of advice: don’t. Remember what I said about infection? Yeah. I’m not gonna go into the gory details of what oxygen deprivation does to the body because I’m trying to stay cool here, so I’m gonna need you to trust me and just. Don’t open the suit.” He heaves a sigh. “Don’t worry, Commander—I’ll be nice and comfy in there. Um. Right up to my imminent moment of dying, that is, but that’s besides the point. The point is… just don’t open the suit.”

He pauses again to rub his temples. Odd how this was the clearest he’s ever spoken, and how easily words came to him now.

“That’s not all I wanted to say,” he murmurs at last, looking again into the camera. “I just wanted to let you know that… well, this whole expedition has changed my life, Commander. I mean I—I’ve been in love with space ever since I was a little kid. And to be out here now?” He smiles, tears stinging his vision. “I, uh… I consider myself pretty damn lucky. Things might not have turned out the way any of us had expected them to, but… well. I’ve got a pretty amazing view.”

He sniffs, tears flowing out out of his eyes and forming into little floating droplets. He can feel his composure rapidly deteriorating—best to finish this off before he gets too carried away. He draws in a sharp breath and continues. “So yeah. It’s possible that this recording is all for nothing—that no one will ever find this, and that I’m just talking into empty space. And like I said, it’s definitely better off that way. But if you’re listening, Commander, I… I just want to thank you. Thank you for everything. It’s been an honor working with you—with all of you. Goodbye.”

He switches the recording off and buries his head in his hands, his body convulsing with broken sobs.

And just then, the life support alarms begin to blare.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!! Please leave a comment if you can -- they encourage me to write more!! And feel free to come say hi to me @autistic-thor on tumblr. Thanks <3


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